


Well Met By Moonlight

by Magos_Dominus



Series: Hunter's Moon [1]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Noir, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Chronic Pain, Developing Relationship, Disabled Character, F/M, Gen, Idiots in Love, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Reunions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25140907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magos_Dominus/pseuds/Magos_Dominus
Summary: His eyes narrowed. Their dim glow cast his sunken features in a haunting, cerulean light; half-hidden by a mat of filthy, straw-colored hair and the sparse beard that grew in patches along his jaw.He shook his head, recognition parting the cobwebs in his brain. “Tifa?” he groaned, and lurched upright. His serpentine pupils dilated to slits, and his canines bared in a pained grimace. “Ti- Tifa,” he repeated, as a desperate, shaking hand shot towards her. “Please.”She startled, and leapt back; her torn umbrella clattering to the cobblestones.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart & Marle (Compilation of FFVII), Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Series: Hunter's Moon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821277
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**October 1 st, 0007v - 10:53pm Midgard Standard Time**

A storm rumbled high over Midgard, and runoff spilled between the upper wards in luminous, thousand-foot curtains. Lanterns flickered in constellations beneath its iron skies; their light reflecting off the false borealis like stars. The industrial thrum of Mako power cast the tiered city in oppressive, emerald hues. Dense smog choked the streets and lent a sepia tint to the air that smelled of charcoal and rotten eggs.

Beneath immense plates of scaffolding and girded concrete, fortified slums huddled in the shadow of the metropolis’ cyclopean foundations. Rusting, scrap metal shanties clogged once-grand avenues, and their well-appointed townhomes now played host to the dregs of respectable, plate-side society. Up top, the streets were lit by electric bulbs and the nostalgic glow of streetlamps. On the ground floor, life was lit by candlelight and buzzing neon, or the beams of passing trains.

A deafening bellow interrupting his thoughts, and the tracks rattled behind him. His ears rang. Burst piping leaked somewhere overhead. The water smelled like damp fur, and the evening fog carried the lingering scents of old sweat and processed meat.

It made his patrols miserable. Once, he might have suffered another endless circuit through the mud and sewage of the lower wards. If it eased the vice pressing around his temples, or quieted the nauseating drone that filled his ears, he might have even done it gladly; but his bones ached, and his head was stuffed with cotton. He struggled to remember how long he sat in that gutter; propped against the moldering brickwork, and bathing in secondhand rain.

His knit, charcoal uniform was torn, and flaking, and caked with grime. The brazen vambrace around his arm was pocked, and tinting green with verdigris. The matching pauldron at his shoulder was warped from abuse. Only an outsized claymore - finely wrought, and sheathed across his lap in fraying bandages - remained untarnished; its polished blade all but glowing in the lamplight.

A shaggy wolfhound meandered through the station; unkempt as he was, though decidedly better fed. He spat, and sputtered, as it laved its tongue across his cheek, and slobber dribbled into his mouth.

“Poor kid,” a stranger muttered; half-heard over the roil of starving engines. The platform emptied with the relieved pronouncement of final departures, and the grudging, murmured assent of the station’s dwindling passengers.

* * *

A woman’s voice pierced through the din. “Chrono?!” she called.

The wiry hound perked, and briefly spun with excitement, before returning its moist attentions to the splotch on his forehead without a second thought.

He groaned, and heard rainwater splash as her footfalls echoed closer.

“Chrono!” she admonished. Her firm grip closed around the dog’s collar, and gave it a sharp tug. The hound yelped at the sudden jolt, and settled onto his haunches with a mournful whine.

The young woman rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that,” she scolded, crouching beside them. “It’s the middle of the night and you’ve had Marle worried sick, boy. You know how she gets when you wander out after dark.”

Chrono’s wide, sorrowful eyes stared back at her, and a sigh escaped her lips. Reluctant fingers scratched Chrono behind the ears. “I’m so sorry about that, sir,” she began, turning towards him. “He can get-”

There was a pause. A train blared past the station and shook the cobbles, and neon flickered overhead.

The woman bent over him, blocking out the light; her brow furrowed in concern. Strong, delicate fingers pressed against his throat. “Sweet Shiva,” she muttered. Her hand shifted to feel his wrist. “Are you alright?”

He looked up. Her eyes were a rich, familiar, burgundy.

His own narrowed. Their dim glow cast his sunken features in a haunting, cerulean light; half-hidden by a mat of filthy, straw-colored hair and the sparse beard that grew in patches along his jaw.

He felt the droning in his ears go silent, and the world came slowly into focus.

She was a slender thing: pale, no taller than he was, and well-muscled. A curtain of dark hair spilled down her back, and gathered in a loose tail at her knees. Worn, leather gauntlets pulled past her elbows, and a pair of heavy boots cuffed at her thighs; covered by dented, iron greaves and a worn apron. A white blouse was knotted around her waist, obscuring the tight-fitted black vest she wore beneath it. Her fingers curled around a tattered umbrella, and the rain soaked into her clothing, running in rivulets across her toned stomach, and off the sable pleat of her skirt.

He shook his head, recognition parting the cobwebs in his brain. “Tifa?” he groaned, and lurched upright. His serpentine pupils dilated to slits, and his canines bared in a pained grimace. “Ti- Tifa,” he repeated, as a desperate, shaking hand shot towards her. “Please.”

She startled, and leapt back; her torn umbrella clattering to the cobblestones.

Hobbling into a high, defensive stance, practiced hands balled into fists as they rose between them. Her crimson eyes narrowed, and a frown tugged at her lips. Something caught in his chest, and coiled around his throat.

He slumped back against the brick; trembling as his body folded in on itself. “Tifa,” he whimpered. His eyes were pleading, and fearful, and his voice was hoarse from disuse. He reached for her again. “I- I came back. I-” He swallowed, and took a steadying breath. “I promised you that I’d come back.”

Her lips parted, then pressed into a thin line as she inched closer, and settled onto her knees. The brace around her leg scraped across the stonework. Her hand closed gently around his wrist as another brushed the hair from his eyes, and her own shot open. “Cloud!?” she gasped.

A familiar pain lanced through his skull. “That’s- That’s right,” he slurred, clutching his head. “I’m… Cloud.” He rose to his feet, and swore as his legs gave out and his armor squealed against the brickwork. Tifa darted to his side, ducking beneath his arm as her own snaked around his waist, and helped ease him upright.

He wobbled unsteadily, and his lips curled into a grin. “It’s... It’s been-“ He sucked in a breath. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

She looked up at him, blinking once, and then again. “It has,” she whispered, tucking her chin against her chest. “They told me you were- I thought you might be...” she rattled out. Another arm slipped around his waist, and she pulled him into a tight embrace; her face buried against his shoulder.

He stiffened, and - hesitantly - his arm rose to rest against the small of her back.

“I never thought I’d find you down here,” she confessed.

Moments passed in relieved, comfortable silence. Strangers paused to look in on their reunion like sidewalk entertainment, though their gawking went unnoticed by the pair.

“You look like you lost a fight with a train, Cloud,” Tifa muttered. “What in Shiva’s name happened to you?”

He barked a laugh. His muscles protested, but the sensation was light, and welcome. Chrono echoed his sentiment, and the hound’s tail beat furiously against his leg. “I feel like it’s been one of those days for- for a long time,” he chuckled, before strangling a noise in his throat as the excitable struck his bruised knee. “I just... I just need a shower is all,” he assured her. His eyes crinkled in a tired smile. “I’ll be fine.”

She pulled away, her face smudged with whatever filth covered his vest, and arched a dubious eyebrow. Gaze drifting to his throat; her eyes caught a glimpse of maroon beneath his woolen turtleneck.

* * *

_A sleepy hamlet straddled the ridge of a sparse mountainside; blanketed in morning mist and dappled with the first, lethargic rays of dawn. A young boy paced around the ruined tower in the square, muttering as he rifled through his pack._

_A girl leaned out from the neighboring doorway. Her home was a modest affair by Midgard’s lofty standards, but it sat proudly at the head of the square; its shingled roof peering out over anything else for miles. "Morning, Cloud!" she called._

_He froze. A frilled, ivory shift trailed behind her as she closed the distance between them; one hand hidden behind her back. His gaze dropped to his boots, and the heat rose in his cheeks. "Good morning, Miss Tifa,” he responded._

_She rolled her eyes, and bent pointedly towards him. “How many times,” she huffed, tapping her cane against the packed earth, “-am I going to have to tell you to just call me Tifa,_ Mister _Cloud?”_

_He swallowed. “Only once more, I think.”_

_She sighed. “What am I going to do with you, Cloud?” Her eyes flickered to the large house before they settled back on him, alight with mischief. “Close your eyes,” she instructed. “I... wanted to give you something before you left.”_

_Hesitantly, he obeyed. After a tense moment, he felt her hands fumble to clasp a leather band that slid around his throat._

_Brow furrowing, he lifted his chin, and heard the latch click. "There," she chirped. "Something to keep you safe out there. You'd make a poor Hunter if a monster got you before you made it all the way to Midgard."_

_He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly, and caught Tifa smiling at her handiwork. His fingers traced the brass rings set into the collar, and his gaze rose to meet hers. “Th- Thank you, Miss Tifa,” he stuttered, flushing crimson. “It... means a lot to me."_

_“You’re welcome, Cloud,” she replied, scuffing the earth with her sandal. “I-”_

_A door creaked open behind them, and his mother’s voice rang through the square. “The coach will be here soon, Cloud,” she announced. “I packed you another- Oh!” She startled at the girl’s presence. “Good morning, Miss Tifa,” she greeted, her kind features relaxing into an easy smile. “Thank you for coming to see Cloud. I’m glad someone else is here to see him off.”_

_Tifa cleared her throat. “It’s the least I could do, Missus Claudia,” she deflected, wringing her hands. “I wanted to say goodbye to my friend before he left town.”_

_Claudia’s grin widened. “Of course,” she replied, glancing away. The clatter of talons and creaking wood approached their modest house. The older woman knelt in front of her son and pulled the blonde into a bruising hug, tears welling beneath her eyes. “I’m so proud of you,” she confessed._

_Cloud shifted awkwardly. “You can’t say that, mom,” he whined. “I’m not a Hunter, yet.”_

_“But you will be,” she assured him, her tears soaking into his shirt, and pulled tighter. “Your old man would be proud of you, too."_

_Cloud sucked in a breath. “Yeah,” he choked, returning his mother’s embrace._

_A minute passed in silence, and Tifa shot a few worried looks at the light in her window._

_An impatient cry came up from the coachman, and Cloud squirmed out of his mother’s grip. “I guess... this is it,” he stated nervously. The blonde stood for a moment, struggling for the right words, and quickly spun on his heel. “I- I’m off!”_

_He heard Tifa snort. “Come back soon, Cloud!"_

_“Be safe! Be sure to write when you get to Midgard!”_

_“I’ll try!” he shouted back; waving goodbye as the coach trundled down the road. His eyes lingered on Tifa, his mother, and the village until they faded into the distance and out of sight._

* * *

Tifa thumbed the brass beneath his uniform. “You... kept it?” she breathed. Her eyes were cloudy, and distant, and something he couldn’t place. “It was a joke, Cloud,” she told him. “You used to follow me everywhere when we were kids. So, I got you something-” She snorted, her lips curling in a rueful smile, and gave him a playful shove. “-something to keep my _loyal hound_ safe on the road. I didn’t expect you to actually wear the damn thing.”

His brow creased. “It was yours,” he croaked. “You gave it to me. Of course, I kept it.”

Tifa’s mouth opened, and shut; forming silent words as she fumbled for a response. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Cloud,” she finally chided, flushing pink. “A girl might get the wrong idea.”

He cocked his head and blinked before taking a few, faltering steps forward.

“Easy there,” she cautioned, ducking back beneath his arm. “Let’s get you somewhere to lie down. I live a few blocks from here,” she explained, nodding past the dwindling crowds. “It’s just down that- Oh!”

Cloud swayed on his feet as she crouched beside him, snatching up her umbrella. “Sorry,” she apologized, steadying him. “-didn’t want to lose that.” A grin tugged at her lips, and she jabbed playfully at his ribs. “You can take that shower when we get home, alright?”

“Alright,” he muttered, his eyelids growing heavy, and followed her lead through the labyrinthine streets. His sword dragged behind them, cutting a trench through the mud and scraping against the cobblestones. Chrono spun and barked; the sound echoing through the neighborhood as he sprinted ahead of them. A laugh shook Tifa’s shoulders, and the blonde smiled.

Home sounded good to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated on 8/19/2020.


	2. Chapter 2

**October 1 st, 0007v - 11:17pm Midgard Standard Time**

A peal of thunder echoed beneath the plates. Somewhere, far off, rain danced across sheet metal like a hail of bullets.

They’d been walking for some time, and Chrono had since sped towards wherever his owner, Marle, kept house and out of sight. Tifa had them duck and weave through alleyways and crumbling side streets, cursing and muttering to herself all the while; something about busted levees, and the damn canal Third Street turned into after every storm.

She stopped to ease him off her shoulders; letting him slump against the wall of a ramshackle townhouse. “Sorry, Cloud,” she huffed. “The rain carried the bridge over Third down towards Sector Eight-” A weary sigh slipped past her lips, and her eyes all but rolled from their sockets. _“-again_.” Apologetically, her gaze rose to meet his. “So, it’s going to take a bit longer while I find us away around.”

“It’s alright, Teef,” he slurred. “I-”

A crash sounded somewhere up the street, and her gaze flickered there and back. She pulled away, and he whined; the cold and damp more apparent with the loss of her warmth. “Stay here,” she whispered to him, hastily pulling a damp swatch of cardboard from the street, and drawing it over him. “We’re being followed.”

At that, his eyes shot open. He lurched to his feet, the damp covering crumpling uselessly bedside him.

Tifa let out an amused snort, shaking her head. “So much for keeping you out of it,” she sighed. He planted his sword between the cobblestones, driving it into the earth, and used the weapon as a makeshift crutch. His eyes followed Tifa’s to a shadowed alleyway; where a trio of tattered – though sharply dressed – individuals huddled beneath the eaves, and soon padded towards them through the urban damp.

Their suits were ill-fitting, and their faces were covered by a garish selection of colorful bandanas. Tifa’s boots slid across the wet stone, through the muck, as she settled into a ready, defensive stance.

* * *

The lead thug shouted across the empty street. “What’s a little bunny like you doing out here at this time of night?” he probed. “-besides playing the good Samaritan to a mangy stray?”

Cloud’s nose wrinkled at their approach; assaulted by the astringence of cheap cologne, even at this distance.

An assortment of weapons hung loosely in their grasp: clubs, hatchets - a rusted shamshir of all things - that shone threateningly in the dim light. Their leader shot him a dubious look, and turned to Tifa. “Your friend there isn’t doing too hot, is he?” the t. “He’s looking a bit beastly, even. Let me guess: Stamp ran into some rats while zozzed on a bit of green?” He pantomimed a swing of his flask, and tutted in disapproval. “There’s not much doing for a man after that.”

Tifa’s jaw clenched, and her teeth ground against each other.

“How about this,” he offered; his hands parting in a flourish. “We’re in a generous mood tonight. So, me and the boys here will escort you safely home, like the fine gentlemen that we are.” He gestured towards Cloud. ”-and then we’ll take rabies over there off of your hands, and put him out of his misery. Get him off the streets before he infects someone else.” A predatory grin stretched behind his mask. “All in exchange for... certain indemnities, of course.”

“Yeah!” the second barked. “-for certain inefficacies!”

The third rolled his eyes, and bent to smack the second upside the head. “The boss said: irrelevancies, shitbird.”

“Oh, for the love of-” their leader scoffed, whirling about to face his compatriots. “Shut the fuck up!”

The tirade that followed – and the accompanying stream of obscenities – continued for some time. The air tensed, and grow heavy, as Cloud felt Tifa’s patience stretch taught and threaten to snap like over-tuned piano wire.

“Listen!” she interjected. “I don’t have time for this, and I don’t want to hurt you either.” Her voice was tight, and carefully measured, and straining with frustration. “So, please, if you would just let us by – _like the fine gentlemen you are_ \- we can all get on with our night.”

The trio turned towards Tifa, heads craning over their shoulders, and then back to each other; their argument dead on their lips.

“You?” the third replied incredulously. “Hurt us?” Pushing past the two – shorter – thugs, the spindly gangster’s barking laugh echoed down the abandoned street “I don’t think you know how this works, girlie!”

The man lunged forward; his spiked bat sweeping towards Tifa’s head.

In an instant she ducked, sinking low to the ground as her leg whipped out and across the muddy street.

“Huh?” the mugger balked, stumbling. “What the-”

The well-placed kick smashed apart his knee. A scream tore out of him, and the man collapsed like a broken marionette; doubled over, clutching his ruined knee, and howling curses at the night. His leg was bent awkwardly, and splinters of broken bone poked from his thigh at an unnatural angle.

Cloud winced.

Tifa rose to her feet, and casually swept the dust off her skirt. “Your friend isn’t going to walk for a couple days,” she explained, nodding towards their shuddering heap of a compatriot. “-but I can do this all night. Your choice, guys.”

Her neck cracked ominously, and the lead gangster’s hatchet clattered to the ground. “Al- Alright now,” he cautioned, lifting his hands. “No need to-”

“Your junkie friend is going to pay for that!” the second thug howled, cutting him off and bounding towards Cloud with surprising speed. His battered shamshir sang through the air as the rotund, ill-mannered bandit closed in.

Cloud’s vision swam, and his sword lurched out from the muddy brick. He held it high, bracing to strike the approaching highwayman. His feet shifted unsteadily, and his eyes darted between a trio of blurred, phantom assailants. They screwed shut, and he waited for the hissing swipes to cut towards him.

They did not.

A sickening crack echoed down the alleys as Tifa wheeled about, lunging to grasp the wound-be butcher by the suspenders. The thug’s feet left the ground as she yanked back, slamming the portly man to the ground. Her fist followed shortly, and pistoned against the man’s throat. A wheeze escaped him, and tears spilled through the holes in his ratty, saffron mask; his hands clutching at the growing swell of his neck.

Cloud stumbled forward, kicking the fallen gangster’s weapon down the street. It rattled across cracked stone, slipped through rusted grating, and out of sight. Tifa spun on her heel, and gripped his shoulder, their assailants half-forgotten. “Cloud?” she asked. “Are you al-”

He caught the dull glint of an ax arc over her shoulder and sink between her shoulder blades.

* * *

She slumped against his chest with a wet rasp. Cloud’s heart thundered in his ears, and time slowed until it inched forward in an agonizing crawl.

“You’re a real pain in the ass, girlie,” the leader remarked. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

The vice around Cloud’s temples returned. His memories swam with the taste of copper, the acrid stench of mako, and a familiar, haunting laughter. A voice in the back of his mind screamed at him to _move_ \- to do _something_ \- but his body only shuddered in response, and veins filled with ice.

Tifa hacked up something warm and wet as the hatchet pulled free from her back, and she fell back, motionless, to the ground.

The thug knelt beside his quarry, patting her hips from anything of value. Tifa’s eyes darted, distant and unfocused, as she wheezed soundlessly; her chest heaving and her lungs struggling for air.

“No pockets?” her assailant muttered. “Fucking- Women’s clothing and pockets. I’ll have to talk to that dewdropper at the tailor sometime.” A hand dragged across his face; fresh blood tracking across the bright green fabric. “Holy Alexander,” he sighed. “I’m an honest individual, looking out for the neighborhood in these trying times...”

Cloud’s sword spun through the air in a smooth, practiced motion. His pupils thinned to slits, and his eyes shifted to a violent, emerald green. He stepped forward.

“What the- Whoa, there!” the bandit yelped, turning towards him. “You’re still firing on, what, one cylinder?” he balked. “Listen, friend. No need to get all-”

The blade swung down, and parted the stonework like glass. The leader retreated hastily, shuffling backwards across the abandoned street. Cloud pulled his weapon free from the cobblestones, and stalked towards the man – unblinking - as he scrambled to his feet.

“So... I hurt your girl,” he began. “That’s on me. I’m a scoundrel, I confess, but you!” The bandit chuckled nervously. “You seem like an up- upstanding member of the community! Let’s just... talk this out like two, civilized gentlemen, and we can-”

A thunderous report echoed up the street, and a cluster of shrapnel clipped the conciliatory bandit in his shoulder. The blow sent him reeling backwards and onto his ass.

Cloud’s ears rang; the scent of blood and powder conjuring phantoms at the edge of his vision: his old partner, the shrapnel and spent munitions on the shore of Wutai; the Hunt, tooth, and claw.

“Listen here, jackass,” a woman called, snapping him from his reverie. “You’ve ten seconds to clear out, and tell that fat cat boss of yours he isn’t welcome here, or snarly there is going to be the least your worries.” She pointed the weapon skywards, punctuating her command with another deafening blast. “Go on! Get!”

The wounded bandit scrambled to his feet, awkwardly collecting his crippled associates as he stumbled, bleeding down the street; one gangster slung his shoulder as the trio limped back into Midgard’s labyrinthine underbelly.

* * *

Chrono bounded past him. The bell tolling in his ears gave way to furious barks and muffled curses that bit at the fleeing men’s heels.

He turned, adrenaline quickly draining from his system, and fell to his knees; bent over his friend’s wounded form. “Tifa?” he prodded, slipping an arm beneath her shoulders. Easing her upright, his fingers snapped experimentally in front of her. “Look at me, Tifa. I need you to look at me, alright?”

A wet cough answered him, and blood dribbled down her chin. “I’m alright, Cloud,” she croaked. Her attempt at a reassuring smile curled into a grimace.

“She’s not,” the shotgun-toting woman countered from over his shoulder. The hammer cocked, and the still-cooling metal pressed against his nape. “You, on the other hand, could stand work on your situational awareness.” She spat. A wad of tobacco stuck to the back of his head. “Now, step away from my girl. There won’t be any warning shots this time, kid.”

“Marle,” Tifa rasped, wincing as she sat up. “Don’t. He’s... a friend. We- We had a run in on our way back from the station.”

Cloud looked back at the small woman. Her pale, scowling face was wrinkled with age, and a nest of frazzled grey hair was drawn behind her head in a high bun. Leathery skin hung loosely off her frame, but the aging spitfire carried herself with a lethal confidence.

The weapon fell away. “I can see that,” Marle scoffed, shooting her a look. “Can you walk, Tifa?”

“I think so,” she coughed, though a handful of faltering attempts to right herself proved otherwise. “-or not.”

Cloud’s fingers traced the deep furrow in her back, and pulled her blouse, unceremoniously, over her head.

“Cloud?!” she coughed, staining the garment a further crimson. “What- What are you-”

“This needs bandaging,” he shot at her, tearing the garment into strips. “Everything else we have is filthy.” She stiffened painfully, wincing as he tightened a makeshift dressing around her ribcage. “-and you need stitches, or an elixir.” He turned to Marle. “She needs treatment; something soon.”

The woman appraised him silently, sighed, and turned to Tifa. “His bedside manner could use some work, but scruffy there is right.”

Cloud startled as a wet nose prodded his flank.

Chrono whined. The wolfhound’s teeth were stained red, and ribbons of pin-stripe tailoring hung from his mouth.

“The mutt seems to like him, though. So, I guess he’s a decent enough sort.” Marle observed, fingers scratching behind her dog’s ear. “Are you put together enough to carry her, or do I need to get this circus another ring?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “I’ve got her.” His arm snaked behind her knees, and scooped her off the ground. “I got you, Teef,” he whispered.

Tifa relaxed into his hold, and her head lolled against his shoulder. “Thanks, Cloud,” she breathed.

Marle watched them for a brief moment, and rolled her eyes. “Come on,” she instructed, nodding impatiently towards a nearby intersection. “The bar’s a few streets over. We’ve got enough stock there to patch her up.” Her brow creased. “Though, I'm starting to think you might need it more than she does, kid. Did you lose a fight with a train, or something?”

Another, familiar pain lanced through his skull. “-or something,” he replied.

Marle turned down the street at a quick pace, and Cloud hurried to follow, cradling Tifa tightly against his chest as the young woman slipped out of consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit late. Been on some new medication as of late. Hoping to get on a bi-weekly schedule for updates.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and for sticking with it.


End file.
